


Out of Mind

by Dragon_in_Disguise



Category: Gotham (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Characters/Relationships to Be Added, Haly's Circus, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Interrogation, M/M, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Top Jerome Valeska
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_in_Disguise/pseuds/Dragon_in_Disguise
Summary: As Mickey comes to terms with his sexuality, he comes across a certain redhead who wins his heart, until a serious event breaks them apart. Soon after, he sees the redhead again, only... it's not him, but another.- aka, a Shameless/Gotham crossover no one asked for
Relationships: Mandy Milkovich & Mickey Milkovich, Mickey Milkovich/Jerome Valeska
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Out of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, let's start with some pointers to help you through the story. 
> 
> This story _mostly_ follows the Gotham storyline, but it will differ at many points. Some events from Shameless will take place here as well, but it will stick with Gotham's timeline. Another note: Mickey might come off very ooc in many scenes due to me diving into the psychological torture he's going to be put through. Also, there's your first warning! 
> 
> And yes, Jerome, Jeremiah, and Ian are all going to be in this story, and yes, they are all related. How - you will find out later on. Keeps an eye on the tags as well, for there will be more added with every chapter. Other than that, I hope y'all enjoy this mess of a crossover I came up with a week ago!

“Mickey,” a voice breathes in a sing-song way into his ear, a warm palm trailing up his side. Mickey grunts softly in protest, rolling over onto his stomach and tucking his face deeper into his pillow. A chuckle follows, lips pressing to the crown of his head. “Mother is out, Mick.” 

“Good for her,” Mickey grumbles, latching onto the last bit of sleep still circling his head. “Means I can sleep longer.” 

A breath of air hits his skin, hearing the low laugh from the man behind him. “You sure about that?”

“Pretty fucking sure,” Mickey grunts, trying to cling to the haze of sleep. 

Both jump when a pounding comes from the trailer’s door, a voice shouting “Jerome! Help us set up out here!” 

The redhead groans in annoyance, glaring when Mickey starts snickering. “Oh, is that funny?” Mickey yelps when Jerome grabs his arm, yanking him up and off their very small bed. He laughs when he hits the floor, wrestling to flip Jerome off of him. The man above him smirks as he pins his wrists down, watching as the older struggles under him. “Now this is funny.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mickey snorts, grinning up at him. “Don’t you have a tent to pitch up?” 

“ _We_ have a tent to pitch up,” Jerome sneers, leaning down until their noses brush. Mickey bites his lip, shooting Jerome an unimpressed look. He squeezes his wrists in response. “Hey, you signed up for this.” 

“I don’t remember signing up for the circus,” Mickey says when Jerome finally climbs off of him, sitting up and kicking at his shin. “I signed up for the fucking.” 

“Technically, I told you I lived with the circus,” Jerome shoots back, chuckling when Mickey flips him off. “Get dressed. We’ll make this quick.” 

Mickey huffs in annoyance but stands up, shuffling through their trailer for a shirt. _Their?_ Mickey pushes down the rise of panic at the thought. He glances back at Jerome, watching him pull on his jeans before he turns back to his task at hand, chewing on his lower lip as his heart jumps. It’s not like Terry can find him now. If he remembers, they’re in New Jersey right now - in some city Mickey has never heard of. Terry is still all the way in Chicago, yet it’s still not far enough. 

He runs a hand through his hair. Months, has it been? Close to eight. 

Jerome had found him huddled on the edge of town one cold night and offered to buy him a drink. Mickey, of course, told him to fuck off, but Jerome didn’t let up. In the end, Mickey accepted the offer. Jerome got him tipsy enough to spill just about anything he wanted to know. It was the first time Mickey spilled anything about Terry - how he discovered him in bed with a man, chasing him off into the night and only letting him go because Mandy threatened to shoot him - and he beat himself up over it the next morning. What kind of a fool was he, spilling the fact he might be gay to a complete stranger? 

Next thing he knows, they’re stumbling into Jerome’s trailer, throwing off their clothes and fucking until the sun rises again. 

It should’ve been left at that. He wanted to leave it at that, considering the redhead lived with a traveling circus. A quick hookup his father definitely couldn’t find out. But Jerome was persistent, following him around town and pulling him through the circus excitedly as if he’s never had a friend before. It was odd, but Mickey didn’t seem to mind after day three. 

He avoided going home as much as he could. Terry ignored his existence completely whenever he was there, only blessing him with heated glares that had a threat hidden under them. It became normal for Mickey to spend his day at the circus, slowly becoming comfortable around his was-going-to-be-one-night-stand. Jerome seemed ecstatic anytime he showed up, almost like a puppy who wanted to play twenty-four seven. 

A month passes of this routine, then the circus has to move on. Plans to stay longer canceled due to a lack of customers in the Southside. Mickey wasn’t surprised, but he was dejected at having to see Jerome go. That was until Jerome popped the question. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” he stated, breaking the comfortable silence around them. 

Mickey glanced away from where he was watching the Ringmaster help load up the last of the crates, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Go with you? Why?”

Jerome’s lips twitched up into an easy grin, shrugging his shoulders. “You don’t seem happy here.” 

“And you think a fucking circus will make me happy?” Mickey snapped, though he’s lacking any venom. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tightness in his chest loosening as the smoke circled his lungs. 

Jerome chuckled, tilting his head back and giving him a look - an almost possessive but teasing stare. “No, but I could.” 

Mickey’s heart thudded. He shook his head and laughed dryly. “That’s gay.” 

Jerome rolled his eyes. He had grown used to hearing these things from Mickey. It almost hurts, but Mickey can’t help it. Not with how Terry is about the subject. “True, but it’d be better than this shithole. Won’t have to look over your shoulder every time you even think of having a drink with a man. Won’t have to sneak around, pretending you’re some homophobic hetero looking for a good lay. Won’t have to worry about Terry.” 

He won’t ever call Terry his father. Mickey noted that long ago. His chest tightened again at Jerome’s words, the words on the tip of his tongue, ready to tell him to go fuck himself, he isn’t pretending about anything. They died in his throat, eyes trained on the cigarette slowly burning out. 

Jerome sneaked a hand around his waist, pulling him flush against his side. Mickey shivered when he brushed his lips over his ear, voice low and sending a jolt down his spine. “Live a little, Mick - outside the closet.” 

God, Mickey still cringes at that line. Jerome thought it was funny, but it was enough to convince Mickey to go. He stopped by one last time for his stuff and Mandy, explaining what was going on. She demanded he call her every few days, or she’ll find him and cut off his dick. Needless to say, Mickey calls her every other day. 

Mickey blinks out of his daze when he’s suddenly yanked back into a firm chest, tilting his head back to look at Jerome. The bastard is smirking again. “Spacing out there?” 

“Fuck off,” Mickey grumbles, feeling his hands slide down his hips. “Hey- thought we had to set shit up or something?” 

Jerome grunts, ducking his head down to nip at Mickey’s neck, one hand slipping under the waistband of Mickey’s sweats. “They can wait a little longer.” 

“Not sure they- ah!” Mickey bites his lip at Jerome’s touch, gripping his forearm tightly. “Jerome-” 

The door suddenly slams open, their heads snapping up to find Jerome’s mother standing there, face twisted in disgust as she rips off her hat and coat. “Jerome, I thought we agreed to keep that in your room.” 

The redhead immediately loses his smirk, glaring at his mother. Mickey tries to slip out of his grasp, make the situation a little less tense, but Jerome only grips his hips harder, almost to the point of hurting. “You seem to have a hard time keeping your end of the bargain, too.” 

The first thing Mickey learned upon moving in with Jerome was his mother was - and still is - quite the bitch. She never voiced it, but Mickey could tell she wasn’t happy about him being here. Hell, she didn’t seem to like Jerome being here either. She’s snippy, always quick to start an argument, and sleeps around _a lot._ Not that Mickey gives a shit about people fucking all the time, but she does it where both of them can hear, and he can tell it gets on Jerome’s nerves. Can’t blame him - that’s his mother. 

They stare each other down, the air growing thick with tension. Mickey winces when his hands tighten further on his hips, finally reaching down to touch his wrists in warning. It snaps Jerome out of whatever the two were doing, glancing down at Mickey before releasing him. “Get dressed. We’re heading out.” He addresses his mother on the last part, leaning down and kissing Mickey’s cheek. He feels his cheek redden, quickly turning to get fully dressed finally before either can see. 

Affection is still a hard thing for him to accept. He’s working on it. 

They spend the next few hours helping set up attractions for their next stop - Gotham City. Mickey won’t admit it, but he enjoys this traveling. Seeing new places, small and big, rich and poor, plain and exotic - sparked that little curious bundle in his mind. Of course, he won’t say anything. Like hell he’ll admit he wants to run down the streets to see the new city. He’s pretty sure Jerome already knows, though. 

Mickey taps the glass of Sheba’s tank lightly, grinning when the snake slides over to bump her head against it, eyeing him with a low hiss. He always liked snakes. 

“My boy, have you helped the Grayson’s set up?” Mickey glances up, finding Paul Cicero - a blind fortune teller - wobbling over to him. 

“They were already done when I got there,” Mickey shrugs. 

Cicero hums, glass eyes staring over Mickey’s head. His lips twitch into a half-smile, reaching blindly for a moment to pat Mickey’s shoulder. “Do put on a jacket. It’s going to get cold.” 

“Sure,” Mickey nods, glancing up at the sky. The clouds were a tad dark, blocking the sun completely. He could feel a cold breeze coming. Damn fortune tellers. 

They part. Mickey, upon not knowing where Jerome is, settles on exploring the circus grounds again, offering a silent helping hand when needed. By this point, everything was about ready. They’d be open to the public by this evening. 

In the eight months Mickey has been here, he’s felt more at home than with his own flesh and blood. It was difficult, yes, to let these people in, but they accepted him - something no one besides his sister has done for him. Just like Jerome had promised, he didn’t have to look over his shoulder every time Jerome kissed him, held him and openly showed their relationship. It was odd, but he’s slowly growing to openly enjoy it. 

He refuses to say they are dating, because they aren’t, and Jerome is okay with it. 

He returns to their trailer to fetch a jacket, the breeze growing colder with each passing minute. He searches through their stuff, grumbling as he does so. He didn’t like the cold much. 

Glass clunks against the counter, his head lifting at the sound. Jerome’s mother stands there, swaying gently on her feet. She’s been drinking. “Why are you here still?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Both of you,” she pauses, lips turning down in a deep frown, “you are both shit at helping out here.” He raises an eyebrow, staying quiet. “I allow you in my home, allow you to do as you please- the least you can do is lend a damn hand!” 

He snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. “Seriously? You don’t even lend a hand around here.” 

When he looks at her again, he ducks quickly as a bottle flies over and shatters against the wall, spraying glass and beer over his arm. For a moment, he’s thankful he was raised in the Southside. “What the fuck?!” 

“Get the hell out of here!” she shouts, advancing on him. Mickey scowls at her and moves quickly, stumbling out of the trailer as she keeps cursing at him. “Until you learn some damn respect, I don’t want to see your face!” 

“Take your own fucking advice, bitch!” Mickey shouts back. He knows people are looking, briefly thankful that they’re still not open to the public. Not that he cares if people hear him calling her a bitch. 

She moves again, likely trying to get her hands around his throat. Mary Lloyd grabs her quickly, followed by her uncle, Owen. Mickey is yanked back, his first instinct to turn and deck whoever touched him. He settles on pushing, scowl disappearing quickly when he realizes it’s Jerome. He didn’t look too happy with the scene. 

This wasn’t the first time the two fought, and Mickey highly doubts it’ll be the last. Anytime she got drunk, or just slightly tipsy, Mickey was being thrown out. Not the worst thing he’s dealt with, but fuck man, is she getting on his nerves. 

“Lila, calm down! You’re drunk!” Owen snaps, tugging her away from the two. 

She continues to spit and curse, but not directed at Mickey anymore. He huffs softly and turns to look at Jerome, noticing the dark look crossing his face. He hates that look. It reminds him of Terry. “Hey.” Jerome blinks and the expression is gone, looking at Mickey in concern now. Mickey ignores it. “You alright?” 

“Are you? What was that even about this time?” Jerome asks instead of answering, fingertips grazing Mickey’s bare arm. He remembers why he even went in the trailer in the first place, shivering involuntarily. 

“She’s just being a nagging bitch,” he grunts, moving to climb back into the trailer. He’d prefer not to freeze his balls off. Jerome follows without a word, seeming to be in deep thought. His skin crawls at the tense silence, chewing on his bottom lip as he crawls back onto their shared bed. “You wanna go out tonight?” 

Jerome snaps back to attention, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Go out where?” 

Mickey swallows hard, pushing down the panic that keeps crawling its way back up anytime he considers the thought of accepting his sexuality. “Dinner? I don’t know. New city - new places and all.” Jerome stares at him for a moment before he breaks out into a smile. Mickey points at him in warning. “Doesn’t mean we’re fucking girlfriend and boyfriend here.” 

“No, of course not,” Jerome teases, slowly crawling onto the bed with him. “We’d be boyfriend and boyfriend, yeah?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey growls out. Jerome chuckles, crawling up to him on his hands and knees until their noses touch, lips brushing him teasingly. Mickey tilts his head to the side, giving the man a hard look. “I mean it.” 

“I know,” Jerome hums, reaching up to grab his chin and turn his face back to his, kissing him sweetly. “Get dressed in warm clothes this time. We’ll go when we open up.” 

Mickey grunts in acknowledgment, quietly beaming at Jerome’s words. 

Lila isn’t home when the two run through the trailer door, laughing and shoving at each other, trying to get in first. Mickey pushes Jerome against the door, slotting their lips together for a kiss. Jerome chuckles, his hands sliding under Mickey’s shirt to grip his waist. Mickey wiggles in his hold, laughs still bubbling in his throat. 

“Aren’t you giggly tonight?” Jerome teases, backing him up towards their bedroom. 

“Oh, come on! The waiter’s face was hilarious,” Mickey snorts, falling onto his back on the bed. 

Jerome shakes his head but is still grinning, climbing on top of the other. “I honestly didn’t know he was chasing us until you started running.” 

“It was your idea to eat and bolt,” Mickey shoots back, reaching up to peel his jacket off. He shrugs in return, tossing the jacket aside and helping Mickey do the same. 

“Hey, I forgot my wallet,” Jerome grunts, lips tracing along Mickey’s jaw. “Don’t act like you didn’t do that back in Chicago.” 

“Did it maybe three times a week,” he grins, running his hands through Jerome’s hair. He groans when his warm hands slide his shirt up, running over his chest and tracing along his collarbones. “When’s your mom coming back?” 

“Does it matter?” Jerome murmurs, one hand moving and unzipping Mickey’s jeans. 

“Not like I want her to hear us,” Mickey sighs, biting his lip when Jerome starts tugging his jeans down. 

“We hear her all the time - she’ll live,” Jerome’s voice lowers, lifting his head to look at Mickey. His gaze seems to have darkened, making Mickey pause. 

Jerome isn’t what Mickey would consider a hothead, but he does get pissed easily. Usually when it has anything to do with his mother. Mickey can understand that. She isn’t the nicest mother, and she has a habit of criticizing their relationship when she’s the one constantly bringing lovers home, the two having to listen to the rather loud fucking going on just a room over. 

“Well, hurry up and get on with it then,” Mickey breaks the silence, grinning slyly. Jerome’s gaze softens for a moment before darkening again, this time with lust. 

When Lila does finally make an appearance, Jerome has Mickey pinned against the wall, hands holding him up by his hips as he thrusts deep and hard into him. Mickey clings to him, panting and muffling his moans into his neck. He barely registers her walking by their room, not saying a word as she disappears into hers. Jerome thrusts sharply, distracting Mickey easily from the woman. 

Twenty minutes later, she’s at their door, finishing up a cigarette. “Jer, I’m heading out to the Graysons.” 

Jerome grunts in acknowledgment, too busy mouthing along the nape of Mickey’s neck. They moved onto the bed, lying on their sides and spooning under the covers. Mickey was too busy biting his bottom lip, face tucked into the pillow as he fights the urge to squirm in front of Jerome’s mother. If the bastard would just _stop touching him._

Lila huffs at the lack of response and moves on, the trailer door slamming shut behind her. Mickey gasps right after and quickly elbows Jerome in the gut, pulling a laugh from him. “You fucker! Can we not do this shit in front of her?” 

Jerome rolls his eyes, lips curled into a mean smirk. “She didn’t notice anything.” He says the last word slowly, pressing his fingers deeper into him with each syllable. Mickey gasps softly again, growling and reaching back to hit him again. Jerome grabs his wrist, tucking it behind his back and pressing closer to him, driving his fingers in hard. Mickey whines, feeling Jerome’s hot breath on his ear. “Ah ah, play nice.” 

“Fuck you, you cocky bastard,” Mickey snaps, wincing at the slight tinge of pain in his shoulder. Jerome hums, squeezing his wrist with an underlying threat behind it. Before Mickey can growl out another insult, he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, pulling a pitched gasp from the older man. Jerome releases his wrist, moving to wrap his hand around his neck instead. “I suppose cocky does fit, hm?” 

“F-Fuck,” Mickey groans, reaching back to grip the redhead’s hips. Jerome tilts his head back, fingers squeezing just slightly around his throat. Mickey shivers at the threat, eyes fluttering shut. “Shut the fuck up and fuck me already.” 

“Cunt!” Mickey shouts back as he leaves the trailer, yanking his jacket - technically, Jerome’s - on roughly. He doesn’t acknowledge the angry mothers herding their kids away, patting his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. When he manages to light one and take a drag, Jerome is walking over from who-the-fuck-knows-where. 

“Mick?” 

“I can’t stand your mother, Jerome,” Mickey snaps, pacing in front of him, flicking ashes off his cigarette before taking another drag. “If she wasn’t your mother, she’d be on her ass for doing that.” 

Jerome frowns. “Doing…?” 

“Packed my shit and threw it out the window, slapped me a lil’ bit,” Mickey grits out, not noticing Jerome stiffen. “She’s lucky she’s a woman.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Jerome moves closer, lowering his voice so others can’t hear. “She hit you?” 

Mickey backtracks. “No- not really. Kind of shoved me out the door, you know, hands flying and shit.” Jerome doesn’t relax. He reaches down and closes his hand around Mickey’s, raising an eyebrow. Mickey realizes he’s shaking. “I’m fine.” 

Jerome says nothing for a moment. He seems to be thinking deeply, running his thumb over Mickey’s knuckles. He hums, leaning down and planting a kiss on his temple. “I’ll talk with her.” 

“Whatever,” Mickey grumbles, stomping his cigarette out. “I don’t want to be here when you do.” 

He thinks for a moment. “The Graysons are starting their show soon. I’ll meet you there?” 

Mickey won’t admit it, obviously - even though Jerome knows - but the Graysons had such a badass show. Mickey remembers John once trying to convince him to try it with them, but Mickey is certain he’ll fall and break his damn neck. He’ll leave the flying shit to the pros. “Fine.” He glances around for a moment, chest tightening briefly before he leans up and kisses him gently. Jerome hums softly, cupping the back of his neck for a moment before they pull away. 

Mickey makes it to the show twenty minutes before they begin. John spots him, waving him over with a grin. “Hey, Mick! Come check this out!” 

Maybe one day, Mickey will give this act a go. Maybe. 

The show goes on as great as ever, Mickey’s attention shifting from the flying men to the fact Jerome is still not here. He glances at the empty seat next to him, hearing the crowd stand and clap for the tenth time when someone is caught. He grins, but it falters as he looks around. Where is Jerome? Surely, he wouldn’t talk to his mother for this long. 

After the show goes on for the second time, Mickey gets to his feet and leaves the stands, listening to the crowd cheer and laugh once again. It’s been a couple hours anyway. He’s tired of waiting. 

“Jerome?” he calls out when he reaches the trailer, clicking the door shut behind him. It’s quiet for a moment before Jerome pokes his head of their room, brightening up at the sight of him. “Hey, what are you still doing here? Totally bailed out on me, man.” 

Jerome smiles sheepishly, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him closer. “Mother isn’t here. I was waiting for her to show.” 

“She go out?” 

“Not sure. She left her stuff here,” Jerome murmurs, pulling Mickey back into their room. He slides down onto the bed, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously. Mickey sighs, walking closer and climbing onto his lap, making the redhead look at him. “What?” 

“She’ll be fine,” Mickey whispers, draping his arms around his neck. “She might be with the Lloyds.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” Jerome says bitterly. Mickey threads his fingers through his hair, giving him a knowing look. It was normal for her to disappear like this, but Mickey has to agree it’s odd she left her things. Maybe she stormed out after Jerome pulled Mickey to the side, too angry to remember her shit. 

Jerome huffs and tucks his face into Mickey’s neck, sliding his hands under Mickey’s shirt and holding him close. They stay like that for a few moments, soaking in each other’s warmth, before Mickey feels his soft lips mouth along his skin. His eyes flutter shut, arching when Jerome’s hands slide up, tilting his head back with a small hum. 

A knock on the trailer door interrupts them, an annoyed groan leaving Mickey’s throat. Jerome huffs in amusement, leaning up and pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek and forcing Mickey to his feet, leaving the room and grabbing his coat. He opens the door, raising an eyebrow at the man before him. “GCPD,” he states, holding up his badge for Jerome to see. Jerome glances back when he hears Mickey curse, watching the man duck down behind the counter to hide. “We need to speak with Lila.” 

Both men look at each other at the mention of his mother. He beckons Mickey to calm down, stepping out of the trailer and tugging his coat on. “She’s not here. Is something wrong?” 

Mickey grabs his jacket, briefly wishing he had something thicker, and stepping out after Jerome. Before them stood two detectives, man and woman, along with the Ringmaster - who Mickey likes to call Leo. The man never gave his name and is completely fine with whatever anybody calls him. It’s weird. 

He eyes the detectives warily, trying to not draw too much attention to himself. Is it possible for them to know who he is? He went to juvie one too many times back in Chicago. He’s not sure how word gets around. “Where is she?” 

Jerome looks at the three, starting to grow nervous. “I’m not sure. She was supposed to be home a while back.” 

“You a relative?” the detective asks, gesturing to both of them. 

“I’m her son, Jerome,” he answers, glancing back at Mickey. “That’s my, uh, boyfriend.” 

He nods, and Mickey worries he’s taking note of his uneasiness. “When was the last time you two saw her?” 

Mickey clears his throat, shrugging a shoulder. “Couple hours back.” 

Leo steps forward, gripping Mickey’s shoulder a bit too hard as he smiles reassuringly at them. “Relax, boys. This gentleman is just here because Owen and Al had a disagreement.” Mickey shares a look with Jerome. The two were always fighting over his mother. Why did it involve the detectives this time? “Your mother’s fine. Gone on a spree, no doubt.” 

Jerome’s gaze hardens. “A spree? Without her hat, he coat or her purse?” 

“She usually lets us know where she’s off too,” Mickey adds, rolling his shoulders back when Leo lets go. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Jerome turns around, swallowing and approaching the glass case where Sheba rests, pressing his fingertips against the glass. “Look at Sheba - she’s distraught. She knows something’s wrong.” 

Now that Mickey actually takes a good look, she does. She’s sliding against the glass, seemingly trying to get out. As if to look for something. Leo chuckles dryly, stepping closer to the detective. “Sir, she’s what you call a party girl. Back in the morning with her knickers in a handbag, sure as eggs.” 

The detective doesn’t look phased by the statement. “But she didn’t take her handbag, did she?” He sighs, looking at the three men before nodding his head towards the tank. “How fast does and animal like that move?” 

“Why?” Mickey asks, now confused. The hell did this have to do with anything? 

“Curious,” he answers simply, now looking at Jerome. 

He looks confused as well. “Fast walking pace. They rely on surprise, mostly.” 

The detective nods again. “Let her out.” 

That makes Jerome pause, looking at the detective with a mix of surprise and confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Let her out,” he repeats, lips pulled into a tight smile. 

Mickey’s not sure what to say, even as Jerome does as the detective asks. After setting Sheba down on the ground, she starts to move, sliding past Mickey’s feet and away from the trailer. He peers at the detective, the group slowly following the slithering creature. He’s not sure why, considering this has little to do with Lila, but he follows them. 

They come up to an old cart packed with boxes used for moving the smaller items of the circus. Sheba slides her way up and into the cart, disappearing under a plastic sheet. Mickey frowns, watching the detective step closer and examine the cart, grabbing the sheet and throwing it back. 

Mickey wants to throw up at the sight. 

Sheba curls around the corpse of Lila, hissing softly in distress. People around them gasp in horror, children being shielded quickly from the sight of the blood dripping down her neck. The detective freezes, staring in shock and horror. The woman with him breathes out “Oh my God.” Mickey steps back, covering his mouth with a quiet “Jesus, fuck.” 

Jerome let’s out a croaked wail, falling forward onto his knees as he stares at the body of his mother. Mickey moves quickly, falling down onto his knees in front of Jerome and wrapping his arms around him, pressing his face into his chest to shield him from the sight. Jerome’s hitched sobs are muffled by his chest, shaking hands reaching to grip the back of his jacket. Mickey holds him close, hushing him softly and looking at the others with wide eyes. 

The detective suddenly advances on Leo. “You knew. You knew she was here.” Leo denies it quickly, staring down at the ground hard. “Look at me.” 

Mickey can see Leo struggling, his chest tightening with each passing moment. Finally, the Ringmaster sighs. “She was like that when we found her.” 

“What’s your relationship with the Valeskas, Mickey?” the detective - who Mickey learned his name was James Gordon - asks, settling down in the seat across from him. 

Mickey hates this. He’s only been through questioning once, and it didn’t end well because he told the truth. Next thing he knew, when Terry got out of prison, he was in the hospital for ratting him out. He doesn’t give the detective an answer, simply keeps his head down. He has the right to remain silent after all. 

Gordon seems to sense his unease - not that Mickey is trying to hide it - and crosses his arms over the table, leaning forward a bit. “I hear you’re dating Jerome, am I correct?” 

“He did say boyfriend, didn’t he?” Mickey growls out, lifting his head to glare at the man. 

He smiles tightly. “Yes. I just wanted to clarify.” 

Mickey huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know shit, man.” 

“What do you know?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she had enemies,” he grunts, leaning back in his chair. “She’s a goddamn bitch, just sayin’.” 

“Didn’t get along well with her?” Gordon asks. 

“Nobody did unless they were fucking her,” Mickey grits out. He rubs his eyes, grunting. “She didn’t like me, didn’t like Jerome, barely liked the men she screwed. She was a mess.” 

“Why didn’t she like you?” 

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up, giving the detective an exasperated look. “She was always after my ass, saying I wasn’t helping around or some bullshit.” 

“You live with them?” 

“Got nowhere else to go,” Mickey grumbles. “My family is all the way back in Chicago.” 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. 

“Traveling the circus with my… boyfriend, you know?” He swallows down that stupid panic, avoiding to look at the man. “My home isn’t a good one. He took me away, I guess. Been better off.” 

“How long?” 

“Eight months, give or take.” 

Gordon taps his fingers against the table for a moment, eyeing Mickey closely. “Have you ever thought of-” 

“No, I wouldn’t fucking kill her,” Mickey says, voice a bit snappy. “She’s Jerome’s mother. Even if we didn’t get along, I wouldn’t lay a hand on her.” 

Gordon raises an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

Mickey glares hard at him. “Yes, I’m goddamn sure.” 

Mickey’s lost count of how many days it’s been since Lila was murdered. They’re being watched over anywhere they go, just in case the murderer is after them as well. Or because he’s a suspect. With how these people work, they’ve gone through his records by now, and even though his reasons for going to juvie had nothing to do with murder, they still think something’s up. 

They’re at the station again, listening to the office buzz with life as the questioning continues. John is getting tired of repeating the same story, plus the arguing between him and Mary is getting worse. Mickey wishes they’d just kiss and make up already. 

He’s dozing against Jerome’s shoulder. He barely got any sleep these past few days, and he knows Jerome hasn’t either. How can they after seeing Lila dead? Cut open and bloody and- Mickey flinches, tilting his face deeper into Jerome’s neck. Jerome has an arm around him, fingers idly tracing shapes into his arm. He pauses when Mickey flinches, squeezing his arm gently and pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “You okay?”

“I’m tired,” Mickey mumbles. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Jerome murmurs, brushing Mickey’s hair back. 

“Not your fault.” 

Jerome huffs. “I know, but-” 

“Valeska, Milkovich,” an officer walks up to them, beckoning them to follow him, “come with me.” 

Mickey sighs and lifts his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as they stand. Jerome takes his hand gently, taking a deep breath and following the officer. Mickey squeezes his hand in return. 

They’re led through the office towards the back, heading down a hallway into, what Mickey discovers quickly, is an interrogation room. The officer leads them inside where they find Gordon and Lee standing across from none other than Cicero. Gordon nods his head, moving to sit down. “Hello, Jerome. Mickey.” He gestures to the chairs. “Please, take a seat. You know Mr. Cicero, yes?” 

“Yes, sir,” Jerome answers while Mickey nods. Jerome takes a seat next to Cicero while Mickey sits down on Jerome’s other side at the end of the table. “Hello, Mr. Cicero.” 

“Good evening, Jerome. How are you doing, Mickey?” Cicero asks, voice rather quiet. 

“I’m okay,” Mickey answers, turning to look at Gordon. 

The man stares at Mickey for a moment, turning to look at Jerome. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Jerome leans forward, a hopeful look on his face. “Did you find out who killed my mother?”

“You killed your mother, Jerome,” he states. 

Jerome’s face pales, leaning back in surprise. “Me?” 

Mickey almost wants to laugh. “What- Are you serious?” 

Gordon doesn’t look away from the redhead. “You killed her up on that hill and Mr. Cicero let you clean up in his trailer. He told you to scratch the Satanist stuff on the hatchet and throw it off the bridge.” 

Mickey does laugh this time, and so does Jerome, both very dry. “Sir, that’s… absurd, and very offensive-” 

“But it’s the truth,” Gordon narrows his eyes. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Unless I’m wrong. Maybe I am.” He leans back, shrugging. “Maybe it was Mr. Milkovich after all.” 

Mickey jerks up fast, gaping at the detective. “What? Me? Are you kidding me?”

“You seem to have the biggest grudge against Lila here,” he explains, oddly calm. “And it’s not the first time you’ve committed a felony, is it?” 

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Mickey snaps. 

“I think you’re lying.” 

Mickey tenses, moving to stand, when Jerome hits the table suddenly. “Mickey never touched her. How dare you blame him for this.” 

Gordon smiles bitterly. “You seem confident in that. Is it because you know you killed her yourself?” 

“Neither of us did it, you prick,” Mickey growls. “She’s his mother!” 

“But she wasn’t a good one, was she?” Gordon asks, raising an eyebrow at the two. Mickey tries to come up with a response, mouth opening and closing, but nothing comes up. Jerome falls quiet, glaring at the detective bitterly. He hums, eyes flicking over to Cicero, who hasn’t said a word since they came in. “What I don’t know is why this man risked so much to help you.” 

Mickey grits his teeth. “Jerome didn’t-” 

“I think he’s your father.” 

The room goes dead quiet. Jerome’s expression goes blank for a moment, lips splitting into a bitter grin. He huffs out a laugh, looking at Mickey in amusement. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My father was a sea captain.” 

Gordon ignores him. “Am I wrong, Mr. Cicero?” 

The man nods, listening to Jerome laugh again. “He was a sea captain. His name was Sven Karlsen. He died at sea.” 

Mickey wants to reach over and hug him. They didn’t talk about his father much, as Jerome never got to meet the man. It was a bitter conversation. He holds back, though, as Gordon continues. “What was the name of his ship?” 

“He worked on a lot of different ships.” 

“The one he went down in,” Gordon corrects. 

Jerome hesitates this time, face falling. “I- she never said.” 

Gordon hums, looking between the three men. “Well, we can do a blood test to prove I’m right. It takes only half an hour to get a foolproof result. Isn’t that right, Dr. Thompkins?” 

The woman behind him nods. “Yes.”

Mickey was honestly impressed. He didn’t know blood tests worked that fast. “Or you can save yourself the needle,” Gordon says, eyeing them closely. 

No one speaks, the three taking in Gordon’s words. Cicero sighs slowly. “I do hate needles.” Mickey’s eyes widen, Jerome turning to look at the blind man in shock. “I’m sorry, Jerome.” 

Jerome’s face twists in pain and disbelief. “What are you talking about?” 

“He’s right,” Cicero tilts his head back. “I am your father.” 

“No, you’re not,” Jerome’s voice cracks. “Why would you say that?”

“You must have suspected the truth.” 

Jerome looks at Mickey for help. Mickey can see the tears starting to form, looking at Gordon sharply. “There’s no fucking way they’re related.” 

“How are you so sure?” Gordon asks calmly

“He’s not- you’re not my father,” Jerome’s voice hardens, shaking his head. “My mother would never-” 

“Your mother was a cruel woman,” he interrupted, glazed eyes looking over Jerome’s head. “She was often unkind to me, but she did one love me - in her way. And-” he reaches over, patting Jerome’s arm, “-she loved you very much. That’s why she gave you a better father.” 

Jerome’s breath hitches, staring at the man in horror. His face twists, turning forward and ducking his head down, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Mickey isn’t sure what to do, swallowing nervously as he sets a hand on his back. 

He pauses when his shaking grows, his cries suddenly darkening. He blinks in surprise when Jerome lifts his head slowly, lips split into a wide grin, eyes narrowed and cold. He chuckles softly, watching Gordon’s face shift into realization. He turns his head sharply, staring the blind man down. “My mother was a cold-hearted whore who never loved anyone, and she’d never touch a pathetic old creep like you.” 

Mickey removes his hand quickly, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Cicero doesn’t seem phased, turning his head in Jerome’s direction. “All these years, do you think I was kind to you because I’m such a good man?” Jerome’s expression darkens. Cicero’s voice grows harder with each word. “If I wasn’t your father, would I help you as I have after what you did?” 

Jerome inhales sharply, turning away from his supposed father. He meets Mickey’s eyes, who is looking at him in slight horror. “My father…” he hums, shrugging a shoulder. “I’ll be damned.” He licks his lips, shaking his head and meeting Gordon’s eyes. “Oh, that’s very funny.” That same creepy grin splits across his face, a harsh laugh bubbling in his throat. Mickey winces when he mocks a drum sound, confused and horrified as hell. What was this? Jerome has never acted like this before. The redhead chuckles. “Looks like the bitch got me with a zinger in the end.” 

Gordon is still calm. “Why did you kill your mother, Jerome?” 

Jerome clicks his tongue, waving his hand slightly. “Oh, you know how mothers are.” He laughs for a second, expression turning dark as the grin slips away as he speaks slowly. “She just kept pushing. And I’m like, fine, mom - be a whore. Be a drunken whore, even. But don’t be a nagging drunken whore.” He smirks, tilting his head. “You know? Don’t come yell at me about my relationships-” Jerome continues, voice growing louder and louder, “-about who and where I do my private matters if you’ve been banging a clown in the next room!” He slams a fist down on the table, his voice echoing around the room. Mickey’s eyes widen in realization, blood running cold. Jerome glares at Gordon, voice quiet. “You know?” 

That damn smirk comes back, face splitting open as he reels back and _laughs._ Mickey can do nothing but watch as Jerome laughs and laughs and _laughs,_ the redhead seeming to find this entire situation fucking hilarious. Gordon and Lee exchange a look while Cicero makes no visible reaction. Mickey shakes his head in disbelief. “Oh my God…” 

Jerome continues to laugh, turning and looking at Mickey with the most amused expression he’s ever seen as if Mickey should find this funny too. Jerome suddenly stops, reaching and snatching Mickey’s arm in a bruising grip. Gordon jumps to his feet, but Lee grabs his shoulder to stop him. Jerome tugs Mickey forward, grinning softly at the older man. “You understand, right, Mick? I did it for us - so we can be free. I had to after she hit you.” 

Mickey speaks weakly. “She didn’t hit me-” 

“I said I’d always protect you, right?” Jerome continues, pressing their foreheads together, completely ignoring Mickey’s scared expression. “She didn’t like what we had.” 

“Oh, God,” Mickey jerks back. Gordon shakes Lee off, moving and forcing Jerome to let go. The redhead laughs again as his hands are cuffed behind his back, staring Mickey down with an evil grin. _“I’ll see you soon, love.”_

Mickey jerks when a hand brushes over his shoulder, whipping around ready to hit and run. Lee holds her hands up in surrender, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

He lowers his hands, huffing out an apology. She sits down next to him, humming softly. “How are you holding up?” 

“I don’t know,” Mickey mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… he’s never acted like that before.” 

Lee looks at him, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back. “It seemed like he snapped. The whole father thing…” 

“He never liked talking about it,” Mickey sighs. “He… I didn’t think he’d actually kill his mother.” 

“I heard him towards the end,” she says, frowning a bit. “Something about her hitting you?” 

Mickey groans, running his fingers through his hair. “No, no… Fuck, I said she slapped me around a bit, but all she did was really push me. I didn’t think he’d get so angry about it. I mean- oh my God, he might’ve killed her just because of that!” 

Lee sets a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, hon, I’m sure that’s not all. It was pretty clear they didn’t have a good relationship. It seems like this was a buildup of sorts, and that night pushed him over the edge. Today though, that wasn’t expected.” 

Mickey laughs dryly. “Never seen him laugh that fucking much. It was creepy.” 

She grins. “Very.” 

He runs a thumb over his bottom lip nervously, huffing. “He really snapped, huh? What’s going to happen to him now?” 

Lee hums. “He’ll be sent to the Arkham Asylum where he’ll be watched over and helped.” 

“You sent him to a fucking nuthouse?” 

“Well, prison won’t do him any good,” Lee points out. “He needs help.” 

Mickey sighs and nods in agreement. He can’t get the image of Jerome’s sick grin out of his head, rubbing his temple with a tired hum. “I guess… Will he ever be okay?” 

She smiles reassuringly. “Possibly. We can keep you updated on his progress if you wish.” 

“I’d like that, yeah,” he nods, rubbing his hands together. 

She lets the silence linger for a moment. “You’re free to go, by the way. The others in the circus left earlier.”

Mickey shakes his head. “I can’t go with them.” 

“Oh? Why?” 

“I… they’re all good to me, I know that,” he starts, staring at a stain on the tile floor. “But Jerome brought me here. I think of them as my family, but they might not after all of this. They might blame me for Lila’s murder, too. Like Gordon.” 

Lee chuckles. “He did that to get Jerome to confess.” 

“Still,” he shrugs. “I can’t risk it. Nobody trusts a Milkovich.” A look of pity crosses her features. He doesn’t look at her, refusing to see that damned expression. “I’m going home to Chicago.” 

“You sure? I heard a bit about that-” 

“My sister called the other night,” he interrupts. “My dad is in prison again for the next year. Gives me enough time to go back and get my own place, hopefully. Move on from all of this.” 

“Hm, I see,” she nods, patting his arm. “I wish you luck, Mickey. I’ll make sure they keep you updated on Jerome’s progress. Maybe in the future, he can get out. I’m sure you two will want to see each other then.” 

Mickey’s lips twitch, cheeks heating up a bit. “Yeah, maybe. I- thank you, Lee.”

She smiles. “It was my pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is it bad I know the entire rant Jerome gives in the interrogation room word for word? Cause I do. 
> 
> UPDATE: I looked over this chapter and realized I left my stupid fucking three sentence chapter summary in the beginning of this chapter and I just felt a wave of embarrassment because it just briefly explained the entire chapter for me to understand while writing. Fuck me. 
> 
> Check out my profile to see what other stuff I'm working on and/or planning to work on!


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